


Snow Hike

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Weather, Frostbite, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Snow, because I have always felt Maglor deserved a little better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: The weather is horrible and Glorfindel and Erestor decide they are rescuing Maglor.  Step one is to get out of Imladris...Rating is a trigger warning for minor PTSD, frostbite and terrible excuses.





	Snow Hike

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien’s wonderful characters or universe, I am just borrowing them to play.

Erestor lay in bed under all the blankets with a hat pulled down over his ears. He has heard that elves don’t feel the cold, but obviously that judgement was made in the absence of the worst cold in Imladris in anyone’s memory. Impressive in a settlement of immortal elves. He is sure that Himring was colder, but the castle at Himring was built square and solid, with thick walls and tiny windows. Imladris is a beautiful, graceful series of delicate arches and wide windows overlooking the valley. Even though he helped design it, he hates the architecture at the moment.

And he hates his wooly hat, it makes his ears itch. But Glorfindel got upset when he tried to take it off and hide it, the sort of quiet terrified upset that means Glorfindel is reliving bad memories. So he cooperated to make his mate happy.

Speaking of his mate, he should be appearing soon, having completed a last late night check of the House, his Guard and anything else that catches his attention.

“Come on Glorfindel, hurry up.” He was about to try contacting Glorfindel mentally and find out what is keeping him when the bedroom door opened and closed. Erestor untucked his face from the quilts long enough to watch Glorfindel putter around: checking the fire and the makeshift curtains over the windows and doors, finding his night robes where he had left them (strewn over a chair halfway to the bathroom) and finally slithering in next to Erestor.

“Aggh….” Glorfindel’s feet are cold, even in socks. At least he has his own wooly hat, House of the Golden Flower green and yellow with bright pink bobbles on the end. Watching Glorfindel wear his hat makes up a little for having to wear one himself.

Two people in the bed was much warmer. Erestor stretched out a little more from his curled position. He suspected that everyone who has chosen to stay in their own rooms (rather than the evacuation shelters of the barracks and House of Healing) was probably doubling up (or more) in beds with every blanket they own.

“Sorry.” Glorfindel leaned in and kissed Erestor’s nose. “We decided to move bales of hay to line the inside of the walls in the stables and cover the windows. And then we had to figure out how to move the horses so they can’t eat themselves sick. But hopefully that will keep it warmer. What did you eventually decide to do about the chickens?”

“We moved them to one of the back guest rooms, put straw on the floor and blocked the chimney.” Erestor had enjoyed watching the librarians’ (the only personnel available in the mad dash of preparations) attempts to catch chickens. “They will probably make less mess than Thranduil on one of his drinking sprees.”

Erestor sighed. Too bad Elrond can’t alter the weather on this one without making it all worse. “I’ll have to put together some sort of way to check that everyone is accounted for and not frozen into a block of ice somewhere.” The Last Homely House wasn’t as much of an issue as the town of Imladris at large. For tonight he thinks he got everyone somewhere safe, but this would be an extended emergency. “How busy will the Guard be?”

“Busy enough, but we had to abandon the outermost watches, those cabins just don’t provide enough shelter. I’ll give you a list tomorrow.” Glorfindel sounded exhausted, “And hopefully the Orcs won’t decide to move despite the cold.”

They lay there in silence, contemplating the whole hectic day that started with a mid-morning announcement of the impending emergency and continued into frantic preparations in temperatures that rapidly dropped as the snow started in midafternoon.

Finally, Erestor asked the question that had been bothering him since the snow had begun. “Do you suppose HE is prepared for the storm?”

Glorfindel had originally found Maglor several decades ago. Patrols at the extreme end of the valley reported the occasional minor signs of someone hiding up on the side of the mountain and the feeling of being watched. Careful searching had revealed no one, and the patrols had been halfway convinced they were imagining spirits in the forest.

Patient searching eventually revealed Maglor living in a shallow cave just beyond the edge of the patrols from Imladris. Glorfindel had immediately gone to try and talk. But the ancient elf insisted he would run away again if word ever reached Elrond of his location. Glorfindel had to be content with checking on Maglor when he had the chance and hoping nothing happened to Elrond’s missing foster father.

Glorfindel and Erestor lay there silently as they visualized Maglor. Erestor has seen him often enough in Glorfindel’s mind: horribly scarred hands, tattered clothing, bare feet and almost skeletal build. Glorfindel had tried over and over to take the elf food, better clothing or shoes. The best he ever managed was sharing his lunch.

“He’ll die in a storm like this.” Erestor whispered. Maedhros was his lord before Elrond, but the idea of the younger brother Maglor dying alone in the cold hurts his heart.

“I keep trying to get him to come down. He is convinced that Elrond hates him and he brings doom everywhere he goes.”

“Well, he’s been up there for decades and there’s still no doom. And Elrond has a picture of him and Maedhros on the wall of his office. We need to get him down.”

“I thought that was Elros and his family?”

“No, the other side, by the window.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel took a deep breath. “This will be a dangerous trip.”

“That’s why I’m coming too. Someone has to do the thinking along the way.”

Glorfindel laughed softly, reached out and pulled Erestor closer, “Then we’ll plan together.”

The next day the plan was set into motion. As usual, Glorfindel made his way through every portion of the Guard barracks and outbuildings. No one noticed as he piled wool horse blankets in a back corner of the stables. He hid Guard snowshoes and a sled in an another corner while telling Asfaloth, “Watch those for me okay?”

He smuggled lembas from stores back to his room in a pack along with two of the thick patrol coats.

Erestor gathered supplies in the main house between his duties. He turned in a schedule that organized Glorfindel’s extra Guards into pairs to check all un-evacuated houses in the City, checked on fuel stores and handed careful contingency plans to his second. He hadn’t yet decided on a method to keep the pair from being reported missing for the length of the trip. Neither he nor Glorfindel were able to come up with a good excuse last night and they were certain their Lord wasn’t going to let them out to play in the coldest weather in centuries. And Maglor would flee if Elrond reacted as they suspected he would and sent out an entire patrol as a rescue mission.

He was walking past Elrond’s office when Elrond himself stepped out the door. Elrond’s eyebrows climbed higher at the sight of his chief advisor festooned in climbing rope and harness (over his robes of office) to go along with the blue and orange wooly hat he has worn since the storm was announced.

Erestor decided to try brazening it out. “Ah, Lord Elrond, I have checked stores and we can maintain the evacuations for one month. All the heads of the committees have daily check lists and lists of the staff and refugees under their command.”

Elrond looked a little distracted as he replied, “Excellent. Good. We’ll have to come up with recreation if the evacuations are too long but this is a good start.” Then, eyeing the rope, “Erestor, why do you have all that?”  
The response was automatic and honest, if misleading. “Glorfindel asked me to bring these to our rooms. By the way, with the contingency plans in place can we have tomorrow off?” Erestor fervently hoped that Elrond would simply agree before Erestor had to come up with actual excuses.

Silence followed this request, and then Elrond snickered. “By all means, if we need either of you we’ll know where to find you. Do you have food?”

“Yes, Glorfindel was packing some meals.”

The grin on Elrond’s face grew, “We won’t expect to see you for dinner then. Make sure you and Glorfindel agree on safe words.”

And with that parting shot, Elrond strolled off down the hall giggling. Well, success at misdirection. Erestor just knew Glorfindel was going to laugh himself sick over this one.

That evening Glorfindel and Erestor met in their rooms, had a quick dinner together and silently dressed for a long trek through the snow. Multiple heavy layers with the patrol coats over the top, gloves covered by mittens, extra socks. And both are armed, Glorfindel with his sword, Erestor his knives. Just in case. Hopefully they’ll be home again, safe and sound, before anyone notices they are gone.

Erestor doesn’t think he’s had to bundle up this much since living in Himring. By Glorfindel’s uncharacteristic silence and carefully deliberate fingers as they checked each other’s gear, Erestor suspected he was thinking of the Grinding Ice.

He did laugh quietly though as Glorfindel produced scarves to match their hats. “Where did you get all these?”

Just that fast, Glorfindel’s cheerful smile reappeared, “Lindir has been trying to learn to knit. I borrowed a few things from his office. Now, how shall we sneak out? If we go out over the roof of the balcony we can climb down the tree at the end of the wing.”

“Let’s not.” In the end, they simply tip-toed out into the night through a side door while everyone else was at dinner.

Elrond ate dinner in the warm shelter of his bedroom with his wife and was now watching his two boys play. He was glad his seneschal and chief advisor have such a happy relationship. He’ll let them have their vacation and keep people from bothering them for the next day or so.

Glorfindel’s second in command sat at Glorfindel’s desk surrounded by schedules and paperwork and contemplated the message and map she was given; with instructions to turn it over to Elrond in two days…. She doesn’t want to know what Elrond is going to say when (not if) he discovers that Glorfindel and Erestor have temporarily run away from home rather than shacking up in their quarters.

Glorfindel and Erestor picked up the rest of their gear from the stable and walked gently off through the night dragging a sled lightly loaded with supplies. The storm is moving out but the wind is rising and the temperature dropping again. They pulled scarves up over their faces so only their eyes show.

Ice from the storm draped in the trees, bending them down into improbable shapes and they could hear distant avalanches. As they walked, not too fast lest they get sweaty and freeze, they heard an eerie moaning punctuated by sharp snaps. It echoed through the trees and Erestor can’t decide what it is. It was cold enough that the scarves are already collecting ice without talking so Erestor carefully reached through his mental shields to Glorfindel with a query in mind. “??? *sound*?”

Glorfindel jerked out of his own thoughts, inadvertently projecting back a scene of the great ice mountains on the Grinding Ice. The mountains are squealing as they shift around the bundled elves. With a horrible snap and crunch one mountain turns and begins to flip with a moan. Suddenly the slab they are on tilts and elves begin to slide across the surface screaming. The memory was cut off with a hard yank and as Erestor reeled, Glorfindel staggered to one side and vomited into the snow. Erestor ran over and as his mate sat back, pulled him into clean snow and hugged him whispering, “I’m sorry.” into the general vicinity of one ear.

Glorfindel sat and shook for a moment before hugging Erestor back and standing up. He pulled his scarf back up and his voice sounded forcibly normal as he said, “The Bruinen and its waterfalls are freezing.”

Silently the pair gathered up the harness and kept walking.

The pair walked through the night as the snow stopped, the clouds cleared out, and the stars began to shine in clear and crystalline skies. Glorfindel had slowly relaxed as they walked away from the River until he was humming a tune to Elbereth as the stars hung bright.

Even with little breaks under the scant cover, it was only mid-morning when they reached the little cave containing Maglor. The brush door looks like another straggling bush failing to thrive in the scree but the wind over the knife edge of the ridge has kept the cave from being covered in snow. There were no footprints in the thin layer of snow on the rocks, and more worryingly, no smoke or sign of a fire lit in the cave.

Glorfindel and Erestor wordlessly left the sled at the bottom of the scree and climbed up the icy rock pile to the cave. As they carefully lifted the makeshift door and climbed in Glorfindel softly called, “Maglor, Lord Maglor?”

For a heartbreaking moment there was no response. Then there was a rustling noise. Maglor was curled up in a pile of brush next to a tiny, half-dead fire in the back. He blinked at the pair in cold, sleepy confusion, “The dead one and Little Erestor?”

“Seneschal Glorfindel and Chief Advisor Erestor.” This would be easier if Maglor recognized them as having some sort of authority.

Glorfindel sounded a little gentler, “Maglor, the weather will only get colder so we’ve come to take you home.”

“Home? Home was lost…. We were stupid and threw away home.” Maglor still sounded confused and dazed. His nose and ears were blotchy with cold.

Erestor and Glorfindel exchanged a glance. Erestor leaned toward Maglor and said, “Elrond wants to see you.” At Elrond’s name, Maglor jerked, eyes going wide.

Maglor struggled upright, mind full of Elros and Elrond screaming as they were dragged away. He waved his hands, warding off the memory, “NO! We sent them away so they wouldn’t be cursed!”

Glorfindel and Erestor gasped as they looked at Maglor’s hands. The scars on the palms are deep and terrible but more immediately miserable were the frost blisters running along the elegant fingers. As Maglor hunched up, bare feet mottled with frostbite became visible.

Erestor summoned his best calm tones to respond, “Do you remember? The Oath is over. Elrond misses you.” Maglor stared at Erestor as if he was speaking a foreign language. Erestor began to wonder how close to death by freezing Maglor actually was.

Maglor tucked his feet back into the leaves, “Leave me here. I will die before I make Elrond sad again.”

Erestor reflected that while Maglor seems progressively less dazed, he’s still befuddled if he thinks that ANYONE dying wouldn’t make Elrond sad. As tempting as it was to thump Maglor over the head, tie him, and simply drag him home, he had better try persuasion first. He pitched his voice to a tone usually used when speaking to tired toddlers, “Elrond will be upset if you die. Do you want Elrond to cry again? Let’s go to Imladris, Elrond will be happy.”

Behind him, Glorfindel carefully slipped out the door and back down to the sled.

Glorfindel returned with an armload of gear and dropped it in front of the door, pulled a blanket off the top and wrapped it around Maglor before handing yet another hat and scarf set to Erestor. This one featured a brilliant red hat that, by length, Lindir seems to have forgotten how to end. At least the color was appropriate. Erestor managed to get some warm tea and some lembas into the frostbitten elf and the hat and scarf on him. All the while murmuring that they are going to Imladris where it is warm and safe.

As he worked on Maglor, Glorfindel swiftly laid out the waterproof canvas and a layer of blankets. Then the pair lifted the icy elf into the blankets and folded him into a neat bundle, tying the blankets in place with their climbing rope.

  
As Erestor and Glorfindel searched for any possessions they should take, Maglor watched sleepily from his roll of blankets and whispered, “Don’t forget my harp. The strings are broken but I still like it.”

  
It was a relief to Erestor that Maglor still has his harp.

And as they carefully took him down the scree pile to the sled, “My nose itches.”

It took the full day and well into the night to return home. Glorfindel kept stopping to rewarm them all and check that Maglor is riding well. And feed the too-skinny elf, because you can’t stay warm without being well fed. Maglor, once a bit warmer, started adding his own semi coherent commentary to the ride.

“Elrond has children? How many? Do any of them play instruments?”

“Twins? The Ambarussa, Elrond and Elros and now these two. It must run in the family.” At which point Erestor pointed out that they had “adopted” Elrond and Elros.

“You know; my presence might cause another Kinslaying when they realize who I am.”

“More lembas? Glorfindel, I am beginning to think you think me a baby bird that must be fed every hour. I remember Elros and Elrond going through a stage where they were always hungry. Maedhros used to make them scrambled eggs in the middle of the night.”

Erestor snorted, he remembers the scrambled eggs. It was the only thing the eldest son of Feanor ever bothered to cook.

The temperature has dropped even lower, the snow creaked as they walk. As they come close to the River again Glorfindel tensed up. And Maglor choose that moment to say, “You know if a Balrog showed up it would be warmer.” Glorfindel was so busy scowling at his cargo that he forgot about the River.

It was late evening when they brought the sled into the barn, and started unstrapping their bundle. Maglor, who had been grimly cheerful until that point, stared up at them pleadingly from his blankets and said, “Maybe Elrond doesn’t need to know I’m here? It is warm in the stable, I’ll just stay until it warms up and then sneak back out.”

Erestor and Glorfindel, busy lifting the blanket wrapped elf off the sled, didn’t bother to respond. They carried him like a carpet into the main building and Maglor tried again, “Or, maybe just a quiet corner somewhere? Out of the way? Can you unwrap me? I think I can walk, this is undignified.”

Glorfindel said drily, “You need a healer for the frostbite before you can walk anywhere.”

“Then maybe a back closet in the House of Healing?”

It was late and the halls were almost empty but light still showed under Elrond’s office door.

Elrond was having a quiet evening of paperwork when Erestor knocked and stuck his head in the door. Celebrian and his sons were tucked into their bedroom (it is too cold in the nursery, especially for half-elves) but he had some last stuff to finish.

Erestor was bundled heavily in damp snow gear and looked exhausted. As Elrond blinked in surprise, a similarly garbed Glorfindel peered around the doorframe and smiled. “My lord, we bring you a patient!”

The two disappeared and as he stood he heard a muttered argument in the corridor. Erestor and Glorfindel reappeared, carrying a wiggling bundle of tied canvas. Elrond blinked, have his senior staff been off kidnapping people? As they carefully draped the bundle across the paperwork on his desk the fabric complained in a familiar voice, “I am not a package, and you accuse me of being overdramatic!”

Disbelieving, Elrond pulled on the top of the canvas and exposed a ridiculous bright red hat. Yanking the hat off, he stared at the exposed face in shocked silence. The silence was broken by Maglor whispering, “Hello Elrond.” Elrond didn’t realize he had begun to cry until the tears dripped onto the canvas.

“Ada?” Elrond grabbed the bundle of canvas around the shoulders and hugged his foster father to his chest, burying his nose in dirty hair.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Elrond loosened his grip a little to examine the frostbitten ear tips and nose.

Erestor commented, “His hands and feet are bad but I’m not sure we should take him to the House of Healing when everyone is sleeping there.”

Loosening the rope a little, Elrond pulled an unresisting arm out of the blankets and stared at the scarred and frost blistered hand. “Take him to my quarters and unwrap him in front of the fire. I’ll get what I need from the House.”

Elrond smiled widely at Maglor and kissed him gently on the forehead before sweeping out the door and down the hall. Erestor, Glorfindel and Maglor stared at each other for a moment before, in silence, Glorfindel and Erestor picked Maglor up again.

A little later, and after promising they would explain the entire story in detail, Glorfindel and Erestor climbed into their night robes and under the covers of their bed. They curled up to sleep, without their hats.

Even with Elrond’s talents, frostbite hurts and healing is exhausting. Maglor slept soundly under a mound of blankets on the squishy couch, pulled up close to the fire for extra warmth. He slowly drifted back into consciousness the next morning, vaguely surprised he was still alive. He blinked sleepily and looked at two small elflings solemnly regarding him. Just like Elrond and Elros so long ago. Huh. “Good morning little ones, shall I tell you a story?”

Bluedancingkittykat made an adorable pic of Erestor and Glorfindel in their wooly hats! Click [here](https://bluedancingkittykat.tumblr.com/post/188966558147/for-tethysresort-who-writes-some-of-my-favorite) to see it!


End file.
